


Hey Karen

by Mnemah



Category: Harvest Moon, 牧場物語2 | Harvest Moon 64
Genre: Crack, Drama, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Growth, Headcanon, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Multi, Personal Growth, Rape Recovery, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Slash, teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemah/pseuds/Mnemah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Karen..." he whispered, barely audible over the storm outside. I hushed him with another hard kiss, my tongue finding his.<br/>I felt him push against me, finding his way in. I stifled a moan. Even with the roar of the thunder, we couldn't risk being heard. The lightning crashed again, his skin glistening from the exertion, by back against the cold cellar wall. I bit his neck to quiet myself as we rode out the storm together. I felt my heart quicken its pace, my breath shortened, I dug my nails into his back. He pushed harder against me, my legs quivering from being hoisted in the air. His grip tight, he pushed my legs back further, my flexibility reaching its limit. I almost couldn't take it. He pulled back far enough for me to see his body as he slid back into me for the final time, his mouth finding mine as his warmth pleasantly came forth inside me.<br/>I felt like a wild animal. A tiger. I could never be tamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Karen

**Efflorescence**

              

I was, I think, thirteen when I first had those _thoughts_. Well, maybe I was younger but I remember that it was around that time when I started thinking about it in that _way_. It’s so hard to explain. Now that I understand that everyone has those thoughts around that age, I guess everyone should understand what I mean. But, still, I don’t feel like anyone understands what I went through _at all_.

A lot of girls get jealous easily. Like Popuri. She hates that I get attention from all the guys in town, even if they aren’t the guys she is interested in. Girls like that are real quick to call you a slut or a whore: because why else would they give me attention over her? She says the only reason boys like me is because of my body and that there’s nothing else about me that boys actually like. Maybe she’s right.

Rick is a few years older than me. Despite the age gap of about three years, we always played together when we were kids. After school, some of us kids in town would go up into the mountains and we’d all play together. As we got older though, some of the kids didn’t seem to want to play anymore.

“Ann, come on, you’re always afraid your dad is gonna catch you but he never does! ” I pleaded to the redhead.

Ann was, and still is, my closest girl friend. We both looked around; Elli was out of earshot, which was a good thing because she would always tell on us when we went up to the mountains. I turned back to Ann, “if you don’t come up to the mountains then I won’t go either!”

“Yeah, Ann! Come on!” Rick persisted, though I wasn’t sure why he wanted her to come along since they never seemed to like playing with each other very much. Gray, Ann’s older brother, grabbed the smaller girl by the upper-arm and led her away from us.

“Guess it’s just the two of us,” stated Rick as he brushed his reddish-brown hair back, revealing more of his face; his skin was plagued by the beginnings of puberty and his brown eyes were framed by thick glasses.

The two of us snuck off into the mountains which was easier without the other kids who usually accompanied us. I remember feeling unenthused about going to play in the mountains; what would we do, just the two of us? Usually we had at least four others to play with. Rick, on the other hand, seemed to be looking forward to playing with just me.

“Hey, Karen! Let’s go up there.”

“How? Climb the tree?” I asked uncertainly as I looked up into the branches of the tall, oak tree. Suddenly, I felt him behind me; not quite touching me, but so close that I could _feel_ him.

“Yeah, you go first,” his voice was low in my ear as it sent a cold-chill down my neck, “grab that branch and I’ll help you up.”

Without my consent, he hoisted me up swiftly, his hands encompassing the area under my armpits and his fingers pressing into the part of my chest that was starting to swell with puberty. I reached up to grab the first branch that I could, and as I began to pull my legs up with me I felt his hand move to the crease where the fabric of my shorts met with my bare skin.

“Stop it!” I yelled from above, “I don’t need any more help.”

“Okay,” he muttered, his hand lingering briefly in the area before he complied.

Once we made it up the tree, I remember feeling a bit uneasy. I was afraid of getting caught, of course, I was a kid doing something I shouldn’t have been and my father wasn’t the type to let me off lightly. I remember many, many belt whips and screaming matches, even at that young age. I was terrified of getting caught doing anything _bad_.

“Hey, let’s lay down, well, you lay down,” Rick’s voice cracked in between the sentence, as it usually did in those days. I remember that he had seemed especially nervous in that instance, “... I’ll pretend to take pictures of you. You know, like you’re a model or something.”

“Oh, okay!” I quickly complied as one of my dreams has always been to be famous, and famous people always had their pictures taken. Rick picked up his ‘camera’ and began to peer down at me through his hands as I posed on the ground, pushing out my chest and puckering my lips in a suggestive kissy face at the ‘camera.’ As I lay on the cold, hard ground thinking of the next pose I should do, Rick got down on his knees next to my face and began to unzip his pants. With my head still on the ground I tried to look over at him, but his hands were so close to my face that I couldn’t tell what exactly he was doing. I tried to move my head away, but his knees were on my hair, and before I could say anything I felt something touch my face. I thought it was his hand at first, but it was really warm and strangely soft. Once I realized what it was I shrieked in terror.

“Shhh!!” he scolded me as the small, fleshy object neared my lips, “this is part of the game. This is what famous people do. Don’t you want to be famous?”

Incredibly confused and not exactly the brightest bulb, I remember thinking to myself, ‘Yeah, I wanna be famous.’ And so, I did what he said. It was just a game, I thought.

“Okay, open your mouth and…” he put it in my mouth, “…mmm, yeah.”

We stayed like that for a minute; my eyes stared straight ahead into his stomach as he was too close for me to see anything else. Slowly, he began to push himself in and out of my mouth. I just kept it open, unsure of what to do.

“Put your lips around it…tighter…mmm,” he sighed as if he had just sipped a warm cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s day. He began pushing himself into my mouth faster, and it felt like _it_ had grown bigger since he had first put it in.

“Suck on it like you’re drinking from a straw,” he commanded from above and I did as he said. A loud moan suddenly escaped from him and he then began to thrust faster and harder into my mouth. I tried to keep sucking but he was moving so fast I couldn’t keep my mouth around it, and then all at once he pushed himself all the way into my mouth and stopped. My throat convulsed and I gagged as it began to fill up with thick, hot liquid. As soon as he moved away I sat up and spit everything out on the ground.

“Why did you pee in my mouth?!” I exclaimed in terror as I spit more of the viscous liquid out onto the ground. A cringe worthy cackle echoed in the mountain air as he held his now flaccid penis in his hand.

“Karen, you’re so dumb. I didn’t pee in your mouth, it’s called ‘jizz’ and I ‘jizzed’ in your mouth. What, you don’t like it?”

“No,” I replied immediately as I started to notice the strange taste that was left over in my mouth.

“Well, you had better learn to like it if you want to be famous,” he stated matter-of-factly as he stood up and zipped the fly of his pants. “And you’re supposed to swallow it, not spit it out on the ground.”

“Really?” I asked, no longer upset about the mystery fluid that lingered in my mouth, but entirely focused on how I could have been better at the new game we had just played.

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to suck on it harder too. You’re not very good, but you’ll get better if you practice. We can come up to this spot and practice so you get better.” It never dawned on me to question why I should be good at such a thing, or even what I was doing. I guess I trusted Rick; he was older and seemed to know a lot more than me.

“Don’t tell anyone though,” he said as we began to leave our secret spot on the mountain, “you’ll get in a lot of trouble if your parents find out.”

And I didn’t tell _anyone_ about the game Rick and I played up in the mountains after school—not even Ann.

Once Rick said I had become better at the game, we started playing it differently. Instead of him putting himself in my mouth, he began to put his fingers inside me—but not inside my mouth. The first time he did it, it kind of hurt and I was worried he might poke my stomach or something. He told me not to worry and that he knew what he was doing, so I let him do it. I actually liked playing the game that way because I didn’t have to have any yucky fluid in my mouth afterwards. At first, he would just push my shorts to the side and slide one finger into the folds of skin between my legs. Then, he would rub the skin in different places before clumsily pushing a finger inside of me. After a while, he would put more fingers in—one time, he got three of them in, but it hurt too bad so he didn’t do that again.

“Hey, this time take off your shorts,” he said to me as we got on the ground to play the game that had become part of our after-school routine.

“Why?” I asked as he began to unbutton my pants.

“It’s just the next part of the game… come on,” he grew impatient with me when I asked questions, so usually I just let him do what he wanted without asking anything. Once my shorts were off, he began to pull down my panties.

“You’re starting to grow hair there, huh?” he asked as a grin grew across his face that was also sprouting hair.

“I don’t know, what’s that mean?” my hands immediately went to cover myself, but he pushed them away.

“It means you’re innocent, but that’s okay, I’m gonna help you fix that.” And before he could say anything more, his mouth went down onto my private area and his hands fondled around on the skin near my legs. I squirmed to move away, but he pulled me back with incredible force, and for the first time I realized that I didn’t have much of a say as to how we played this game.

“Rick… Rick, stop…” my legs quivered as his tongue flicked against the swollen mass of skin above my private area, his fingers now jutting in and out of me. I grabbed at the hair on his head and attempted to pull him away, but he wrapped his hands around my legs and pulled my pelvis closer to his face. My muscles down below tensed up as he continued faster, his mouth open wide and his tongue thrusting in and out of the hole that was down there. A rush of warmth came over my body, it was a strange wave-like feeling that caused all my muscles to tense up and my skin felt very hot. Then, I cried out uncontrollably as everything fell loose again. My chest heaved up and down as I breathed heavily and Rick sat up from his position between my legs, smiling wide as I caught my breath.

“How’d ya like that, huh? Looks like I’m getting better at this game too.”

During the cold months, we couldn’t play our game anymore, but once the weather got warm again we would pick up right where we had left off. It went on like that for two years—I remember that I had started wearing a bra and he didn’t like it.

“You know, guys like it better when you _don’t_ wear a bra,” he said as he smoked a cigarette. He had just turned eighteen and I was almost sixteen.

“Why? Because my nipples will show or something?” I asked unenthusiastically, yet, still curiously. I was really obsessed with learning what guys liked.

“Yeah, and your titties flop around and it’s sexy.” He took a long drag off the cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground, “so, is today the day?”

“No, today is not the day,” I replied sternly, aggravated from being asked the same question every, single day.

“Then when will the day be?” he leaned into me and began to kiss my neck, “come on, I do so much for you, and make you feel so good… you should give me something in return.”

“I suck your dick and that seems to make you feel good.” He pulled away from my neck and looked me in the eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in an angry expression.

“I liked you better when you were sweet and innocent, and not this ungrateful bitch you’ve become.”

“I’m not a bitch!” It came out as more of a plea than an assertion. I hated when he called me that.

“Yeah, you’re kind of a bitch,” he declared again, only this time he was sliding his hand under my bra, “you were born with so much beauty and you show it to me, but then you don’t let me have it.”

“I let you have it,” I argued as he began to pinch my nipple, “stop it, that hurts.”

“Come onnnn…” he begged as his hand grabbed mine and put it on the growing bulge in his pants, “will you at least suck on it?”

Suddenly, we heard a noise in the distance. We both hurried to look like we hadn’t been engaged in any bad activities but it was obvious we had been caught.

“Hey, you kids better find some other place to mess around, we got to work up here.” It was one of the carpenters that lived in the mountains. His name was Bart, actually, and I had talked to him quite a lot before that encounter. Once I had gotten older, I was allowed to go into the mountains by myself, and when I did I would dance near the river bank--not far from where the carpenters’ workshop was located. He would say ‘hello’ to me as he passed by; he was always very nice to me, always telling me how good of a dancer I was and how he would love to watch me dance when he didn’t have work to do. I always imagined that, if he were younger, he’d be kind of cute.

“Oh-uh, o-okay,” Rick stuttered as he stammered to his feet. Hurriedly, we made our way down the mountain path and back towards home; that was the last day Rick and I played the game on the mountain.

But the game wasn’t over.


End file.
